


an effigy to be defaced

by gabriphales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Drugged Sex, Face Slapping, M/M, Rough Sex, but entirely consensual and pre-discussed, this is a planned out scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: circa 1793; crowley finds a moderately tipsy aziraphale at a ballroom party, and takes him home
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 84





	an effigy to be defaced

**Author's Note:**

> ik its addressed in the tags but pls note this is an entirely consensual pre-discussed scene !! with consent given beforehand !!!

"knew i'd find you here, angel."

crowley's voice lights up from behind aziraphale, a wick to lay empty in tired coals. he turns on his heel - an artistically articulated square of leather, that clicks against the floor in divine form. polished marble ground, the kind he might slip on, were he any less careful.

"oh - " he gasps, smiling. "crowley! what a - dear goodness, what a joy seeing you here."

crowley takes in his rosy cheeks, his trembling unstable silhouette, and grins with his fangs more than his molars. "and a joy to see you, my darling. tell me, have they got anything drinkable?"

aziraphale totters forwards. he's trying oh so terribly hard to appear in control. and, really, crowley has to pity his troubles. after all, what's the harm in letting himself go soft, vulnerable? there's someone to take care of him now. someone to keep him safe.

clean shoes click, click, click, and finally, aziraphale is close enough to use crowley as a means of balance. with a hand locked around his arm, playing up the facsimile of a lover's touch. crowley's chest alights, his skin burns. he wants to be touched as a lover, he yearns to be held in willing arms.

he has to keep himself in check.

"feeling alright, doll?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

aziraphale wobbles slightly, catching himself on crowley's shoulder. the fear that tears through his tendons and rests in his iron grip is real enough to have crowley considering calling off the whole evening. but aziraphale giggles at his own folly, aziraphale _laughs._ and he's never looked so carefree before. he really needed this.

"perhaps - perhaps a place to rest might be sufficient for my likings." he stammers, leaning onto crowley quite needily now. a mess of quivering limbs, and bruise-bitten lips, he's adorable. crowley wants to ruin him.

and aziraphale wants to be ruined.

"well, let me take you back to my place." crowley says, already leading aziraphale towards the ballroom exit. 

"terribly cold out there, you know." aziraphale murmurs, nuzzling closer into crowley's overcoat.

"i know," crowley brushes back his curls. "i'll keep you warm."

the coach ride that follows is a watercolor symphony to aziraphale. a jumbled mess of absolutely nothing; words spoken that he can't make out, and the tender harmony of crowley's reassurances. resting atop his shoulder, cheek pressed into a silky fur collar, (what is this? mink? surely not, crowley's too fond of them, thinks they're rather like furry snakes.) he nearly dozes off. the only thing stabilizing his consciousness being the bony hand that holds onto his own. a constant reminder. he's not making it out of tonight without giving something up -

something he's more than happy to provide.

crowley guides aziraphale inside, taking pleasure in how reliant on him aziraphale has become. he can hardly walk by himself now, shameless for all his struggling, and he ends up entwined in crowley's arms - twiggy, but stronger than they look - when he stumbles over his feet for the third time.

"silly thing," crowley mutters, helping aziraphale into bed. he lays him down, all sprawled out and open, the least bashful crowley's ever seen his angel. and he knows what's coming next, the role he's meant to play out. it feels almost cruel; the damned crawling over something holy, chaste. taking place between his thighs, and memorizing how the dim lighting reflects in a fine, dull sheen across his stockings. the shoes come off first. glitzy and posh, they're treated with care. crowley has to be gentle at this stage. that's the whole point of this game.

aziraphale yawns, stretching his arms out. with his eyes half-lidded, and his mouth slightly pursed, he looks inconceivably, delectably breakable. crowley's half tempted to hold his legs spread and have his way right then and there.

"are you going to eat me?" aziraphale whispers, laughing just quietly enough to keep the air between them still. "like the big, bad demon you are?"

"i suppose i must," crowley replies. "my ditzy little angel. walking yourself right into the devil's den."

aziraphale presses his legs wider, smiling. "have me. i want to be yours."

crowley's lips climb atop his own, breaking boundaries that they both cast aside ages ago, and licking into aziraphale's pomegranate-cherry sweet mouth, tasting his honey tongue.

"you already are, darling."

crowley makes easy work of his clothes. stripping aziraphale down to his stockings and garters, frilly undershirt and cravat the little modesty he's left with. he clings to crowley the whole while, giggling softly, weakly - as if the very sound were an ache to his tired throat. his eyes fade in and out of focus, indistinctly fuzzy, _warm._ but he always keeps his watch on crowley, only laughing harder when crowley leans in, trying to hold his mouth captive once more.

"your breath is so hot," he drawls out, getting stuck on the words, syllables jammed in his throat. "feels funny."

crowley settles on his stomach, his view of aziraphale framed by shaking, milky white thighs. 

"close your eyes," he murmurs, taking plush flesh between his teeth, and sucking gently. "trust me."

"i do," aziraphale flinches when crowley dares nibbling. "be cruel to me, please. treat me like you're . . . like you're - oh, you know, terribly angry with me."

crowley's brow raises. "and what would you have done to deserve such treatment?"

aziraphale hesitates, looking, for the first time tonight, admittedly self-conscious. "i've - i have - 've been a very, _very_ bad angel."

crowley chuckles, deciding to go along with it. he trails a single finger down aziraphale's thigh as he speaks, eventually brushing over his labia, settling at his sopping entrance. there's slick glistening there, enough to leave a faint line dragging connection when he pulls his finger away.

"have you?" crowley asks, less inquisitive in whatever aziraphale might come up with next, and more interested with how _desperate_ he's made himself. soaking his pretty pink cunt, all from the simple thrill of anticipation.

"well, we can't let that go unpunished, can we?" crowley's fingers take station exactly where aziraphale wants him most. just waiting to deliver, keeping him on edge, tense and tight, wound-up beyond relief.

"n-no," aziraphale says. "certainly not."

crowley smiles - it's a quiet threat. the first finger spears aziraphale open, already feeling like a tremendous stretch in his dizzy, discombobulated state of mind. aziraphale cries out, louder than he would have were he any less drunk. squirming away from the heated pressure, with crowley's hand on his hip the only thing to keep him still, in one place.

"it feels like - " aziraphale hiccups, a nervous, strained sound. "it feels like a lot."

and crowley knows he's playing up his role of the coquette, faking a virginal motif. even so, it's all too easy to fall into that sort of play, indulging in the idea of truly tearing aziraphale open, making him his own. ravishing a fragile, innocent body. using him, just as he's happy to be used.

"you'll take to it quickly, angel. always knew you were a little whore for me, right? wanted me so badly, you just couldn't help yourself." crowley presses in a second finger, thrusting them now in distinct rhythm. he thumbs at aziraphale's clit, rubbing down upon it, and then dragging - just _barely_ touching - the edge of his nail over the tip. aziraphale whimpers, tugging the bedcovers up to his face, and hiding away.

"'m not a whore." he whines, oblivious to his own muffling. "i'm shy."

"shy indeed," crowley scoffs. "that's why you spread your legs the second i took you home, begged me for my cock."

aziraphale huffs, pouting cutely. "and yet, you still deny me my heart's desire."

crowley rises to his knees, tugging his cock free of his trousers. "you won't be denied a second longer."

he fucks aziraphale down onto him, moving his body without restraint. both hands tucked into the dip of his waist, gripping him there, and taking full advantage of all the leverage he has over aziraphale like this. aziraphale chokes on a sob, rutting down against him, taking crowley as deep as he can go.

"foolish little angel," crowley coos. "look at you, all helpless, defenseless beneath me." 

his mouth melds to aziraphale's neck, nipping at the curve of his jaw, and taking his lobe between prickling, eager fangs. his breath makes aziraphale shiver - though that's nothing compared to his bite. aziraphale yelps loudly, shuddering and holding onto him with everything he's got. his arms and legs entwined around crowley, smothering himself, tucking his head into crowley's chest.

"i want you to hit me," he pleads. "please, _please_ hit me." 

crowley stays silent, considering the offer.

aziraphale continues begging, "please, crowley - _ah!_ " 

his head is forced backwards by crowley's fingers at the nape of his neck, tangled im baby hairs. and his cheek - good lord, it's _burning._ pulsing with a velvet red heat, so hot, so much - so _good._ his cunt tightens around crowley with the slap's aftermath, and he cums. crying out, his eyes brimming with tears that do little more than sting his sore skin.

crowley's eyes glint over, and he looks a little too pleased with himself. "i'm not done yet, angel."

"can't take - can't take anymore, 's too much." aziraphale says, though he's just as certain as crowley is that their safeword remains unspoken. he still wants this, still needs more. he just has to have it taken from him.

and take crowley does. with vicious, vindictive flair, he spins him onto his stomach - a move that leaves aziraphale's vision swimming in circles. the ceiling stays in constant movement, and aziraphale can't do anything but cry as crowley strains his hypersensitive cunt. even with his eyes closed, he still feels like he's falling, an endless drop that's only held in suspension by the pressure of crowley touching him, fucking him, filling him _everywhere_ inside.

"it hurts," he lies. "you're too big for me."

"just a little longer, princess." crowley kisses at his trembling shoulders, peppering reassurance. "such a brave angel, i know you can take it."

aziraphale nods, teary-eyed and sniffling as he lets crowley rut himself to orgasm. played up for show as it is, sometimes he can't help getting a little too in character. and when crowley pulls out, brushing back damp curls, he's met with a still whimpering aziraphale. he curls the angel into his lap, stroking down the length of his back, and whispering praises. tender little lovenotes woven into every word, soothing out the rest of aziraphale's tension.

"do you consider yourself punished, angel?" crowley smirks, quite smug.

aziraphale blinks up at him, smiling softly, sleepily. "mhm, 'm all better now."

"are you? well, what would you say to a bath?"

"with bubbles?"

"of course."

despite how fiercely his coordination betrays him, aziraphale still manages to beat crowley to the bathtub, looking all the more proud of himself for his accomplishment. and even when he gets too tired to lift his own hands, crowley helps him pop every bubble that tries to float away.

**Author's Note:**

> i was drunk when i first started writing this and u can rlly tell,,, the saga of zira's drunkposting continues


End file.
